


Civilization and Its Discontents

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way they were raised is probably going to chase them for the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilization and Its Discontents

 

The way they were raised is probably going to chase them for the rest of their lives. Sam thinks they can change, but that's Sam.

 

The ideas their dad poured into their heads poured right out the other side of Sam's; it's only Dean's they stayed in. And he has no idea, really, why he turned out to be the sociopath and Sam turned out just on the twitchy side of stable. Except, maybe, that Sam doesn't have those early memories of blood and fire, and Dean does.

 

It's like Dean was raised by a demon hunter and Sam was raised by TV. It'd explain his perverse little version of 'normal'.

 

Blonde girlfriend, Stanford education, law school. Two point two kids (blonde, because the kids will look like their mother, the way they always do on TV) and a two-storey suburban house and a nice car and a minivan to put the kids in, and breaks for commercials every six minutes.

 

Having been raised by TV, Sam believes in patterns, and in redemption. He believes, Dean's noticed, in the power of explication, to the point that Dean sometimes wishes that Sam would shut *up*.

 

It's his own fault, though. He's the one who always turned on the TV to keep Sam company. He stole comics at gas stations and gave them to Sam to read. He snuck Sam into city-edge multiplexes to keep Sam from fretting about where their dad was. He worked out how to get pay-per-view movies without paying in their motel rooms, which means that not only did he pepper Sam's childhood with bad Bill Murray comedies, he also provided the low-grade porn that functioned as Sam's sex talk.

 

And, see, Dean's seen pictures of Jess. He saw Jess. And she was gorgeous, and Sam loved her, but damn if she didn't look just like the cookie-cutter blondes with their feet in the air that he called up for Sam to watch.

 

He thinks sometimes it must be nice, to have that kind of perfectly normal baseline attraction. He's never been to college, and he really, seriously does not pay attention when Sam's infodumping on him, so he will never think about how much Jess looked like their mom. Who Sam never met anyway, not really, so it's not like he's acting out those, you know, *freudian* ideas about moms. Not the way Dean might be, if he did.

 

Overtly, Dean likes everyone, but he learned to do that. Dean's friendly, because it's useful to be friendly. People will talk to Dean in ways they never wanted to talk to his dad, who looked just a little bit like a serial killer.

 

Sam used to nag their dad to shave. He might have had a point.

 

The point is, Dean managed not to be raised by either TV or school. He was raised by a demon hunter, and by necessity, and it's made him just that much different.

 

If he sometimes likes older guys, in the way that Sam likes porn-blondes, that's not *freudian* either.

 

Because he never thought of their dad that way. But maybe sometimes he wants something he didn't get from their dad, that he did get from the other hunters, occasionally. That he didn't get from the assortment of truckers and bartenders and small town sheriffs and isolated, demented coroners and inbred guys on isolated farms, no matter how much they asked and offered and sometimes offered to pay him. Dean has standards, and he likes his own kind.

 

He likes the intensity. The way any two demon hunters locked in a room spark off each other and get under each other's skin.

 

Lust and electricity and a reminder of exactly what he is.

 

And really, he brought Gordon back to his and Sam's motel room because he wanted to get his take on the nest, talk about how to take it out. But that doesn't mean that he didn't have this kind of crawling lust all over his body when he asked. Doesn't mean Gordon didn't know that.

 

Because, see, Gordon at least understood him when Dean said, "I need you to sit down for a minute." He dropped into the nasty old motel armchair and kind of spread his knees. Sat there and watched Dean while he paced for a bit. Tried to work out the worst of the tension before he dropped down on his knees. Opened Gordon's jeans and pulled his cock out and pulled it into his mouth.

 

In with everything else, he needs this, and he doesn't get it very often. Has to be with someone who's like him, enough to understand that there's nothing submissive about sucking cock. It's partly about the skin and the weight in his mouth and the taste and the smell of male body just barely exposed, but it's also about Dean's teeth, and how close they are to the most sensitive part of any human being. This huge power-kick that puts things back where they're supposed to be and turns him on so much he hurts all over. Not quite connected to the way Gordon's hands pushing on his head spark right down to Dean's cock.

 

Push down, close to Gordon's body, almost down Dean's throat. Think about how much Gordon's giving him what he needs and how Dean's still getting what he needs, but without it being a favour, exactly. It balances.

 

He hasn't even swallowed before Gordon's got Dean down in the chair with his jeans open and finishes him. Gordon's still growling when Dean comes.

 

And both of them wipe their mouths off, nod and go back to work.

 

This lingering crackle along Dean's spine whispers that what he really wants, really, is for Gordon to fuck him, but that isn't going to happen. That's worth three or four days of power negotiation, and he'd have to deal with Sam and Sam's version of what's normal in the middle of that, and Dean doesn't think that's going to happen right now, if only because Sam doesn't understand his need for this kind of occasional, nerve-crackling, untender, completely unfilmable fuck. Not yet.

 

The need's still there, though, even when he and Gordon are beating the shit out of each other. It's part of every hard punch to the pace. Like Dean could work out on the man's face what he knows now he's not gonna get from his dick.

 

And in the end, not even Sam can give him that last, utterly necessary punch.

 

He jerks off twice, late at night when they're pulled over and Sam's asleep in the car. Cold air and animal eyes watching him from the trees.

 

 

 

[12 November 2006]


End file.
